Seven
Something ought to be done about the sun. It’s never around when you need it, and then it decides to ruin whatever rest you get by poking itself into your PRIVATE bedroom, and announcing quite cheerily that you are a deadbeat if you stay in bed one second longer. Wednesday morning was worse than usual. Some silly bird was outside my window chirping merrily at nothing, no doubt, and between it and the sun, was making my much needed sleep-in a total disaster.
I rolled over and tried to reclaim my unconsciousness, but after realizing that sleep hadn’t been all that good either, I tried to justify getting up. The last thing I had thought about was Felicity, so I got up guiltily, realizing that she might be in trouble and that I’d better get cracking, if I was to be of any assistance. There was also the Paul question. Where in the heck was he, or had he come home last night sometime? There was also the Jocko question. What in the world was he up to? Too many missing persons and too many dead ones.
I stumbled into the bathroom, and tried to clear my mind during my shower. Paul ought to be easy, if he wasn’t in his room, then I’d call the newspaper and try to get past the numbskull at the switchboard.
Then, I could run down to Police Headquarters, try to find news on Jocko, and see what the Lieutenant had found through the fingerprint results and other work he may have ferreted out.
Wrapped up in my robe, I shaved, and saw that my black eye was now green and yellow, with the white of the eye somewhat bloodshot. So, at least that was something, but still called for sunglasses.
I took a look in Paul’s room and saw no sign of life, and assumed he hadn’t shown up yet.
I found some clean clothes, basically a pullover shirt and some passable jeans, still folded nicely from when Felicity had helped with the laundry. I began to feel a sense of urgency and decided to put things into high gear. I finished dressing, got downstairs and found the phone book in the living room. Looking up the Hustle Herald, I dialed the number and got someone that spoke in some unintelligible language to answer the phone. I plunged forward bravely, asking for Paul. Of course, they had no idea who I was talking about, so then I asked for Obituaries. The goof on the other end had no clue, so I finally asked testily for dead people….surprisingly, that got me through.
“Obits,” I heard Paul announce into his mouthpiece.
“Where have you been Paul?” I asked. “Mother has been worried.”
“Who is this?” he asked.
“This is After, you nincompoop, and you haven’t been at the house lately.”
“Oh, hi After! I took your advice and asked the switchboard girl out, and I guess I haven’t made it home yet.”
“What? You asked her out and it’s been going that well?” I was impressed and let it show.
“Yep, I told her I was working with a Private Investigator, and that I had helped on the case, and she wanted to talk more about it, so we went out for coffee, and one thing sort of led to another.” I could hear him gloating from here.
“I should have called yesterday, I guess. Mother needn’t have worried,” I said grumpily. “You wouldn’t have found me, I took the day off. Never got out of bed, well…except for showers and pizza.” Definitely gloating now.
“I guess you’ll be home for a change of clothes then?” I growled.
“Sure, but tell Mother not to wait supper on me, I can’t guarantee I’ll be there.” “Sure, Paul, sure. I’ll tell her.”
“Great!” He chortled, then he sunk to a conspiratorial whisper, “She’s an animal!” “I’ll bet,” I growled again. I just couldn’t help myself.
“She’s so smart too, says I need laser surgery.”
“What?”
“Laser surgery for my eyes, says I look like Pee Wee Herman with my glasses on, but like Brad Pitt with them off.”
I felt nauseous, but refrained from asking if she needed glasses as well. Instead I congratulated him, and told him to bring her over, as Mother might need a new girl to cook for. I didn’t tell him that Felicity was gone, and I don’t believe it would have computed with him at this time anyway.
I went in to the kitchen to tell Mother, and she was relieved.
She said, “I hope he brings her for supper soon, I have a new lasagna dish I’ve been dying to try out.” She was back to her naturally bubbly self, and I felt a bit better that I had actually deduced something for a change.
Now for the police station, and Lieutenant Howard. I was hoping for some good news, like maybe that the case was solved, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath. I approached the station, and wasn’t paying any particular attention, when I received a bit of a jolt. There was the Volkswagen, right in front of me, and Felicity’s car right next to it. Hustle isn’t big enough for an impoundment yard, most of the work is done right in front of the Police Station, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Even so, it jolted me back to reality, and my concern for Felicity made me increase my pace, such that I was fairly running, and breathless when I entered the building.
By now, the desk sergeant was becoming accustomed to my increasingly frequent arrivals, and he actually paid attention when I asked him if Jocko had been on duty last night. He thought about not answering for just a beat or two, then shrugged his shoulders and said that Jocko had put in a full shift last night, but was probably at home by now. I then asked if I could see Lieutenant Howard, and he waved me on through. I went up the stairs, and into the large room that he shared. Looking around, I spotted him at his desk, so I walked over, half anticipating some good news and half dreading the potential bad news. I was just glad something might be getting done.
I stopped just short of his desk, as someone was dropping off some important looking documents, but he saw me and motioned me to sit in the chair across from him. He looked the documents over and added them to a pile of papers that had appeared since my last visit there.
“OK, After,” he began. “First for the good news. Felicity hasn’t shown up, her fingerprints were on her car, but nothing showed on the steering wheel. The bad news is, we don’t know where she is.
More bad news,” and he paused. He paused again, looking at me. I felt my stomach doing flip-flops, and I tried using whatever part of my brain that was responsible to get it to calm down. Either my brain wasn’t tuned in, or my stomach had a mind of its own, because the flip-flopping continued.
“OK, here it is… The fingerprints we lifted from other parts of the car match the ones the city has on file for you, no surprise there.
Another set matches the corpse that you knew as Steroids, whose real name is Patrick Bacon. He was a small time hood, never brought up on any big-time charges, just mainly muscle for hire. It doesn’t seem that he was the type to kill someone, but his greasy accomplice was. The man you knew as Charles Underhill, who is now resting by Mr. Bacon in the morgue. The third set of prints is the most interesting. We found a match right here in our own files. The third set belongs to a Ms. Felicity Jeffries, sister of Felix, daughter of Felicia. She was booked, but never brought to trial on prostitution charges about 10 years ago. Here’s the mug shot.” He slid a photo over to me, and there was no doubt that it was a younger version of my Felicity.
I sat in silence, somewhat at a loss for words. It just goes to show that you can’t judge people, even if trained for it…not that I was actually trained anyway. Lieutenant Howard was watching me, and what he saw was apparently enough to make him say, “Don’t worry, she was never charged, it was his word against hers, and the officer wasn’t too sure of what was going on anyway. The man involved was pretty much in trouble all of the time, and was trying to plea bargain, after being caught with billfolds that weren’t his. She was supposedly in on a pickpocket scam with him, and when he was caught, he told us about the alleged prostitution.”
I was a bit mollified, but I was upset that I hadn’t seen the connection between her and Felicia. They had the same body build; Felicity, Felix, Felicia were all similar names. Then there was the brief history that she had told me when we were discussing her, she had mentioned a brother, and leaving her home, I should have put it all together.
“Anyway,” Lieutenant Howard continued, “her last known address was in Chicago at this site, does it ring a bell?” He slid an address across to me, but having no clue as to Felicity’s past whereabouts, I was only able to nod dumbly in the negative.
“Now, remember, you aren’t to leave town, so don’t get any strange ideas.” “Am I still a suspect?”
“Let’s just say that you are the only person still alive, or in town at this point that has anything to do with this case, and I want to know where you are. I have shared more information with you than I should, but I hope this will satisfy you for the present. As you may gather from what is going on here, this is now officially a double homicide case, perhaps a triple, and we are pulling everyone available into it. Got it?”
“Got it,” I sighed. “Can I go home now and digest this?”
“Sure, get lost. Check in tomorrow.”
“OK, and thanks for the information.”
I got up and found my way out of there, and walking home, I didn’t know whether to be sore, happy, really mad, or just confused.
I reverted to form, and opted for confused, at least I was consistent that way. Things were going to take some sorting out, and I decided to grab some food at Mother’s, then go talk to the local gun smuggler …Roy, and see if he knew more than he was letting on.
Lunch was on me, I was able to go to the kitchen and rustle up some leftovers. I found some cold cuts, bread and those fancy deli chips that Mother preferred. Finishing things off with a cold glass of skim milk, I retired to the dining room. While I was eating, I heard some strange noises, sort of like scratching sounds. I couldn’t determine where they were coming from. I rose and went into the living room, but found no one. The noise seemed most noticeable by the front door anyway, so I went over to it, and cautiously opened it. Given what had happened at Roy’s door the other night, I was prepared for almost anything. I wasn’t prepared for this, however. I looked at eye level and saw nothing at all, but I did feel something brush past my leg. That something was a somewhat thinned down version of Soot, the irascible one had finally returned. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried. I decided that any cat who would leave the house on the head of a greaseball deserved a hearty welcome, so I said, “Stay out of my room, and we’ll get along fine.” He ignored me, and looked back toward the door. I started to close it, but wasn’t quick enough. A bundle of fur swooshed past me and into the house, taking up its place next to the old boy. A small, somewhat thin calico cat was taking its stand by him, and showed no intention of leaving. As I reached down to pick it up, I received a hiss from the new arrival, and Soot bit my shoe.
This called for a higher authority, so I went off in search of Mother. I was working the entire house, but could not find her anywhere, when I heard a squeal of delight from the front room.
Mother had found her baby, and was letting everyone know. The fossil bolted out of her room, as quickly as molasses on a sub-zero day. James wandered down the stairs, took a look and slunk back up. I marched in, and started to apologize for the uninvited newcomer, but saw Mother holding both cats and smiling as if her entire life had found meaning. “After, look, our friend is back, with a girlfriend as well.”
I did the hardest thing I had ever remembered doing, and smiled.
“What are we going to name you?” She cooed as she carried them into the kitchen for a huge repast, no doubt. I got a good look at the two scalawag’s faces as they turned back and deigned to glance at me. Soot’s eyes were half shut in bliss, but the little hussy’s were wide open with a promise of retribution for even thinking of trying to evict her from her new digs.
Oh well, at least I didn’t have to feel guilty about Soot anymore, I just had to retrench and go back into my paranoia mode. Not that it would be too difficult to do that. I was pretty sure that someone still wanted me dead, and now that Soot was back, I could count on a few good maulings as well.
I went back to the dining room and finished my meal. I had a plan forming in the back of what was once my brain, and I wasn’t entirely sure when I would be sitting here eating a square meal again.
I really needed to talk with Roy, and I also had a few other errands to run. I bolted down the remainder of my food, and took the dishes into the kitchen, where a definitely mellow Soot was eating last night’s leftovers and sharing his meal with the new hussy. At least Mother was happy. If Mother was happy, everyone would eat well.
“I was thinking of calling the new kitty ‘Sugar’, what do you think, After?” Mother asked through her smile.
“Doesn’t really go with Soot too well, does it? What about ‘Mud’?” Mother must have thought I was joking, and she laughingly shushed me out of the kitchen, saying that she would do my dishes. I gladly complied, looking back to see the old boy eating away, but the latest female in my life just showed me her pearly, pointed teeth.
I went upstairs, found a plastic bag in one of my drawers, threw in a few tee shirts, some underwear, a few pairs of socks and another pair of jeans. I went to the bathroom, got my toothbrush, my razor, a washcloth, and an almost new bar of soap and tossed them into the bag as well. I felt a little like the boy who was leaving home with the bag on the end of a stick, but I had to find Felicity. If I was going to be in trouble with Lieutenant Howard, I wanted to be sure that I had a good head start on him in any case. I needed to talk with Roy about some transportation to Chicago, and maybe borrow one of his guns as well. I was sure I’d be in a big pile of the smelly stuff when I returned, but I had decided that Felicity might just have some answers for me. I wondered why she had conveniently turned up just as her brother was going invisible, and her mother was going dead. I didn’t suspect her of much more than being an innocent bystander that might know too much to be healthy for her, but as I was in somewhat the same boat, I thought we should ride this thing out together.
It was getting later in the day, and I decided to walk to Roy’s a bit early, maybe take the long way and enjoy the walk, perhaps working some of the kinks out of my still sore muscles. It was a nice day, with a touch of the harvest in the air. You could tell that the seasons were about to change, a not unpleasant time of year. I like pumpkin pie, Halloween and pretty leaves, so this prospect was not unpleasing to me. The kids were out of school, presenting their usual roadblocks, and I spent some time sidestepping bikes and skateboards, as well as the peripheral junk that accompanies these items. Empty water bottles, crushed boxes of Jell-O, candy wrappers and comic books. The occasional condom lying around.
I was pleasantly tired when I got to Roy’s, and I went straight to my office to relax a bit. Upon entering the room, I was met by about 100 pounds of teeth and snarls attached to a very lean, mean looking German Shepherd. I got out as fast as I could, shaking and not quite sure what was going on. I was greeted by laughs from Roy and another man, who was hard to see through the gloom of the early evening light.
“Don’t you remember me, After?” came a familiar drawl. I forgot to tell you that I put my dog in your office so that she wouldn’t eat my cab up while I was in here with Roy.” It was Grits.
“What did you need a gun for?” I squeaked.
Grits laughed, “I really needed it to protect me from her!”
“I can believe it,” I admitted. “Why are you back so soon?”
“Time is money, my man, and Roy has another shipment on its way to Madison tonight, that I need to get loaded as soon as it is dark.”
I didn’t need to ask what the shipment was, but I was interested in how he managed to hide guns among whatever else he was hauling.
So I asked, “What is the regular cargo that you haul?”
“Industrial waste, maybe even nuclear waste…it’s all the same to me.” He smiled, looking suddenly like a barracuda.
“Ewww, doesn’t that stuff get into the g-g-…the other stuff that Roy has you haul?”
Roy laughed, “We’re among friends here After, you can say guns in front of Grits. Besides, why should these people care how they’re shipped? They’ll mostly all die an early death anyway.” I couldn’t help it, he still looked like Santa Claus to me, so I decided to probe a bit further.
“Who do you sell these guns to anyway, Roy?” I asked.
“The Irish Republican Army, at least this trip. Maybe someone else next time.” Depends on what I get my hands on, and who pays the most. It also depends on where they pick them up, Grits only runs in the Midwest.”
“Oh, I see, and Grits is going to Madison tonight?”
“Yup,” Grits offered.
“Guys,” I began. “I could use a favor, and this seems to be a great opportunity to ask.” “Sure After,” Grits spoke, “What do you need?”
“I need a ride to Chicago, I could be there a few days. I hope that won’t put you out too much Roy.”
Roy shrugged. “We all have our reasons for doing things, I can cover for you here, or just close early. What’s happening in Chicago?”
“Maybe nothing,” I admitted, then I told them the entire story, including that I might be in trouble with the Lieutenant upon my return.
“That’s nothing. I’ll be clean by then,” Grits said offhandedly.
“You’re welcome to tag along, but you’d better get square with my dog first…give her some raw meat and if she lets you live, try to pat her head. If not, you’ll have to find another ride.”
“I don’t suppose you have any raw meat around?”
“Just fixin’ to feed her myself,” Grits said, then tossed me a bag of scraps. I trundled over to the door, and opened it slowly. The dog just sat back and looked at me. “Nice doggy,” I offered. “Do you want something to eat?”
No response, so I left the door open for a quick retreat, then opened the bag and spilled its contents onto the floor for her. She looked at me, decided correctly that I was harmless, and came over to eat. I slowly put my hand out and patted her on the head. Amazingly, her tail wagged.
I heard a laugh behind me, and Grits stood there with a big smile. “I guess you’ll do, she’s never let anyone but me do that to her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Never named her, only had her a half a year or so, I’ll get around to it sometime.”
I didn’t understand Grits at all, but I was very glad he was on my side, and I was grateful for the unexpected lift to Chicago.
Roy came up and said, “After, go ahead and put in a regular night, as we need to get this stuff loaded. Then, as you are now an official member of this group, take a few hundred for expenses. You might need it, as I don’t think this girl will be easy to find.”
I was so grateful, and it must have shown, for Roy just smiled and walked away. Grits laughed, “He isn’t being benevolent sonny, he’s covering his butt too. Now that you are being paid, you’re committing a felony. You’re one of us now.”
“Just tonight, then I’m forgetting any of this ever happened.”
Grits roared out another hearty laugh, and followed Roy out, shaking his head.
“Well girl,” I said to my new friend, “if you can behave yourself, you are welcome to join me at the counter.” The dog got up and followed me to my usual chair, curled up and went to sleep.
I wasn’t concentrating too much that evening. I was trying to figure out where all of this was going to lead. If I could find Felicity, I was going to have to figure out a way to get her to come clean with me. If she was holding out before, what was to keep her from holding out, or running away again? I was hoping to find her quickly, and catch her by surprise. She must have been planning on leaving Hustle before the day she actually left, as she had had her phone disconnected. That means she wasn’t spooked the night of the kidnapping, even though that could explain why she left so abruptly. I was sort of upset that she left without telling me goodbye, or even leaving me a note. I realized that I didn’t mean too much to her, but then, why had she spent so much time with me? Maybe she knew nothing about her brother and was trying to see what I knew, then, when Steroids and the Greaseball started putting pressure on me, she realized that she should leave as well. Why didn’t she take her own car then? Why wasn’t any trace of her found if Steroids had taken the car from her forcibly that night? Who shot Steroids? Had Steroids gotten rid of Felicity earlier, and come back for me? I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious, they could have had time to kill her, then come back for me. All of these questions, and I was getting ready to get into big time trouble with a very large Homicide Lieutenant by leaving town against his orders. I was only hoping that I could appease him with a few answers when I got busted.
The night went slowly, no one showed. It was 10:00, and I was cleaning the place up. I went out back with the dog, so that she wouldn’t get uncomfortable while travelling, and locked the door behind me when I re-entered. I was beginning to wonder what the timetable was when I smelt cigar smoke coming from the main room of the Shoppe. The dog wagged her tail, and I guessed that Grits and Roy were back. I was only half-right; Grits was waiting alone for me.
“Are you ready pardner?” he asked. “Thanks for taking the pooch outside.” “As ready as I’ll ever be. Where’s Roy?”
“Probably home in bed, I have my own key. Well, I guess we’d better light her up and get out of here. It’s an all night drive to Chicago.”
I grabbed my plastic bag, and followed him out, remembering my money, and quickly darting back in to get the two hundred dollars that Roy had offered, plus this night’s twenty.
I clambered up into the cab of Grits’ semi, and sat on the surprisingly nice seat he had. Also, there was a bed, a TV, a small refrigerator and a mat for the dog behind the seat. It was pretty cozy.
“Looks like you do OK on the road,” I ventured.
“When you live out here on the road, it pays to be as comfortable as you can, although I don’t like too much stuff in here. That way no one will to relieve me of anything. Even with the dog and gun, there are some rough people out there.” He didn’t look too worried by it all, so I decided to look cool about it as well.
We were on the road in short order. Grits smoked one cigar after another, but as he was my host, I said nothing and tried to breathe my air from the right side of the cab. The miles passed by, and Grits turned out to be a good conversationalist, regaling me with stories of adventures he’d had, or heard about while on the road. I started nodding off after midnight, and he asked me if I’d mind if he put on some tunes. I nodded that it would be OK, and was about to fall asleep, when I was shocked by what I was hearing.
He was playing Mozart on a CD. I looked at him quizzically, then said, “I figured you for George Strait at night and Rush Limbaugh in the daytime.”
He snorted, “Give me a break, do I look that stupid?”
I laughed, and prepared to sleep to the classics.
I awoke at several times, and heard Beethoven, Hayden and some opera that I couldn’t place. Grits seemed to drive, eat, smoke and drink simultaneously, and I assumed I was in good hands. I looked him over a bit more carefully. He was a raw boned man with perpetual stubble on his face. Over six feet tall, he always smelled of tobacco. He had bright blue eyes that stood out from the darkness of the rest of him. Longish black hair that needed washing, a dark tan and of course, the cowboy garb. His voice was low and husky, due to his smoking, no doubt. Some time during the night I must have crawled into the bed in back, as I woke one time under a blanket and the dog piled unceremoniously atop me.
The rest of the night was uneventful, and I was still slumbering peacefully when Grits yelled back at me, “Wake up After, the next stop is yours!”
I got up, not disturbing the dog, rubbed my eyes and crawled back up front. “Grits, I really appreciate this!”
“No problem After, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
He pulled into a truck stop, and let me out. As I was leaving, I shook his hand carefully, as I might need its use later in the day. He said, “I’ll be here on my way back tonight around 10:00 P.M., if it so happens that you want a return trip. I’ll have room for you, and your lady friend, if necessary. I’ll wait till 10:30.”
“Thanks again, Grits. I really appreciate it!”
Here it was, Thursday morning already. Had I really been on this case for 8 days? A lot had happened in that time. All for a lousy hundred dollars. I should have told Roy I’d rather run guns at two hundred a pop. I supposed you could get killed doing that as well. I expect that I was just not the criminal type. I always heard that you have to think like a criminal to catch one, and I wasn’t doing well there either. I wasn’t sure if Felicity was a criminal. I only knew that she was a girl, and I resolved not to think like a girl, if I could help it.
Grits had stopped right next to a Chicago Transit Authority station, so it was just a matter of minutes before I was on my way into inner city Chicago, which was where Felicity had last worked.
I was going to start there to see if they had any clues as to where she had lived. My guess was that she was still living here, and had just come to Hustle as part of the Felix problem. Nothing else made any sense to me. The question was, how did Steroids and the Greaseball fit in? Were they working separately, or were they following Felicity for some reason? I got off at my stop, looked around and found a liquor store that had a newsstand associated with it. I went in and purchased a map of the city of Chicago. I was only a few blocks from my destination and I walked along the streets and marveled at how Chicago managed to be cold, even in August. Maybe it was due to the skyscrapers not letting the sun warm the streets. Maybe it was cool air coming off the Lake. Maybe it was the extra pollution blocking gamma rays or something. Anyway, I needed a jacket, and I hadn’t packed one.
I arrived at the address, just before my core temperature dropped to coma level, and gratefully stepped into the foyer. The place was a small brownstone that had been converted to more apartments than it was built for. I looked at the names on the mail slots. Only half of them had names, some were yellowed with age, others simply had none at all. I decided that I was going to have to look up the manager, so I headed for the nearest door and knocked. A small, dark haired woman with a moustache to kill for answered the door with a grumpy, “Wha choo wan?”
“I am looking for a tall thin lady with brown hair named Felicity.
Her last address was here.”
I received a blank look in reply.
“Do you have a girl looks like that, or one that lived here recently?”
“No, on’y men live here.”
“Really? There couldn’t be a mistake?”
“No, there is one man has a cleanin’ lady come in once’t a while.”
“Which one is his place?”
“Numba foah, at the top o’ the stairs.”
“Thanks, I guess that’s better than nothing.”
I was hoping this man might at least remember a girl that looked like Felicity. I went up the stairs, mindful that they were falling apart, and trying to find solid wood. I was just as glad that Felicity didn’t live here, it was a definite downer.
I found a door, the number was long gone, but a lighter colored area remained, showing where a 4 had once resided. I knocked, and waited for some sign of life. I heard some rustling from the other side, followed by a few grunts and a sleepy, “Who is it?”
“I am sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you could help me find a friend of mine.” “Why would you be hunting for a friend? Friends are easy to find, ‘less they’re hiding from you.”
“She’s not hiding, but this is the only address I have for her.”
“Must be a mistake, no female lives here.”
“The lady downstairs said that you have a girl come in and clean every now and then.”
The door opened and a small, beer-bellied man of about forty peered out at me. He looked me over, then correctly deciding that I was no threat, gestured me inside. The building might be a mess, but his apartment was very well taken care of. A small jewel among charred ashes.
“Nice place,” I said, meaning it.
He looked at me some more, then asked, “Who was you looking for?”
“Her name is Felicity Jeffries, but she may go by another name.
She is tall, thin, has brown hair, she is also an artist.”
“Hmmmm,” he mused, seeming to concentrate. “I dunno….”
Pulling out a twenty, I laid it on a small desk by the door. “Perhaps you can help me.” “Did’ja say she was blonde?”
Pulling out another twenty, I said, “No, she’s got brown hair, shoulder length.”
“Yes, she comes in here from time to time, straightens things up for me. Place needs a woman’s touch now and then.”
“Great!” I cried. “I have come from quite a distance to give her some news on her famil